


216

by whitesclera



Category: Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: (reupload), Blindness, ren's on-going battle with their fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitesclera/pseuds/whitesclera
Relationships: Kageyama Shien/Yukoku Roberu
Kudos: 12





	216

His head turns.

Glaring white headlights, screeching tires that smoked against the asphalt. A young woman screams as she drags her son away from the road. He tries to move, but all he can manage is the widening of his eyes as the rest of him locks in place.

Shien remembers screaming.

-

He wakes up. At first, he isn’t sure if he already has, or if he’s adrift in the lingering vestiges of a nightmare so vivid it overlaps with what he couldn’t see under his closed eyelids, so he stays that way. Vaguely aware of his surroundings but not entirely present. 

The sheets are stiff under his fingers. He wonders at it. Everything feels a little wrong, too, like the way his head sits in the unusually firm bend of the pillow and the dragging weight of his limbs when he tries to move them. He can’t open his eyes.

“…eems he’s awake. Kageyama-kun, can you hear me?”

He works his mouth to speak. He doesn’t recognize that voice. Was he not home, after all? That doesn’t sound right; he knows he had no plans of staying out late because of work. He even remembers counting down the hours before he gets home as he crossed a street. And then-

_Huh?_

He doesn’t remember much else.

Confused, he responds. “Yes. Who… are you?”

“I am Horiuchi Tadashi, a doctor at Higashiyamato Hospital. Can you tell me what you remember?”

_A doctor._ Shien’s fingers twitch against the bed he is lying on, a frigidness that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room setting deep into his bones. _He’s in a hospital._

He takes a steadying breath that hurts his chest, tender with bruises and fresh stitches he failed to notice the first time around. The dripping of liquid in medical packets and the mechanical hum of machines come into clarity, startling in its volume, as everything comes rushing back in pieces.

-

A car accident. Two casualties: one dead, the other crippled.

They tell him he’s lucky he made it out alive. No amputations, no severe internal damage. A few fractures, but those would eventually heal with enough rest and rehabilitation. 

_Red pooled underneath his head, soaking into his hair as he tried to blink the pain away. His legs refused to budge, numb and held down by a massive weight._

He presses a hand against the gauze wrapped tight around his head and over his eyes. 

_There’s a faint pressure in his eyes before something_ tears _at its front, and then he’s screaming, screaming, **screaming** , motionless under the frame of the car, bile rising and rising until his vision swims black._

He isn’t sure he fully agrees. 

-

People visit him.

Family, friends, acquaintances made from work. They don’t ask him how he’s doing because there isn’t anything he can say that the doctor hasn’t already told them or that wouldn't be a lie. 

“You think this is what it’s like for them?” Izuru asks, words slightly muffled by the sound of him chewing. The plastic packet crinkles as he digs in for another piece. “Our listeners, I mean. Hearing nothing but our voices, blindly guessing at what happens on the other side of the screen.”

It’s so very Izuru to open a topic like that without malicious intent. 

Shien pinches his blanket between his fingers and rubs it, studying its texture. Nowadays, he spends most of his time doing something similar to anything he can hold between his hands.

“I think they have it a little better.”

“Because of our avatars?” Aruran ventures.

Astel hums from his corner of the room. He’d claimed the couch all for himself, having not slept a wink in the past two days. “I can see why. They get a general idea of what we’re doing and where we’re looking even if they don’t know what exactly we’re looking at. Isn’t it interesting that they can see us without _actually_ seeing us?”

“The motion tracking is off a lot of times but it’s pretty impressive when you think about it. Making two-dimensional drawings come to life with movement.”

“True.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence. A frequent company, whenever they come to visit. Some lighthearted jokes which Shien welcomes, heart full with gratitude that they’d take time out of their schedules to visit him regularly.

Despite the topic of their conversation, they don’t talk about what happens with him and work after he leaves the hospital. 

It feels entirely too soon.

Maybe it's why he opts to endure the silence rather than listen to their streams.

-

Shien turns the fidget cube in his hands- something Astel saw on his way to the hospital and thought he’d be mildly entertained by. He'd been told that it was painted in his colors. He’s grateful, not at all expecting that he’d be relying on it to keep himself occupied during his quieter hours.

The door opens and he follows the sound with his head, uncertain if he’s looking at the source directly, but confident that he at least has the general direction right. He sets the toy back down on the desk beside his bed.

“Robe-san…?” he asks.

The man huffs a laugh. He can almost see the way his lips pull widely to smile. He never thought of it before, but Roberu’s expressions- they were easy to imagine even when there is nothing for him to see.

“You’re getting good at that. I didn’t even say a word this time. What gave it away?”

Shien relaxes back into his pillows. “You’re the only one who visits this late.” The digital clock that provides him with verbal readings of the time is another gift- this time, from Shinove. “I keep telling you that you don’t have to. Your streams are scheduled in the mornings, after all. Traveling all the way here every night isn’t easy on the body.”

“Is that an insult on my perfectly fit self, Shien-kun?” Footsteps approach his direction, moving to the other side where people leave him with their miscellaneous gifts and snacks. Shien turns and is greeted with a bottle dripping with icy condensation against the side of his face.

“ _Cold-“_

“You deserved that.”

He takes the bottle and grimaces at the trail of wetness it left on his cheek. “I didn’t!”

“No, you definitely did. Calling me an old man. See if I care to bring you any more bottled tea, have fun surviving on nothing but liquid vitamins and baby food.”

“Robe-san,” Shien whines. “I didn’t say that.”

“You _implied_ it. Really, you youngsters.” The bed sinks in the general direction of his right leg. The other man’s voice is purely teasing. “No respect for your elders.”

“You’re doing this to yourself. I hadno part in it.” Shien waits for a beat, before adding, “even if I may have implied that you’re too old to be taking long walks.”

“Shien.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Yes. I’ll stop now.”

He clears his throat after a while as he turns the bottle in his hands.

“But I’m serious, Robe-san. Isn’t it bothersome?”

A finger lightly flicks his forehead. “You don’t have to think about things like that. Really. It’s a pointless concern.”

Shien frowns at him - or where he thinks Roberu is, based on the sound of his voice - though it comes out looking more like a pout without him knowing.

“I won’t get lonely, you know. Everyone’s been kind enough to leave me with gifts every time they visit.” The labeling of the bottle creases under his thumb. He scratches at it, tempted to scratch the sticker right off, before flattening it again. 

“I can find a way to keep myself entertained for a few nights.”

Roberu moves, the place where he’s sitting sinking a little deeper. The back of his hip bumps against his outstretched right leg. He wonders how he looks. What is he wearing? He heard it’s been getting cold lately. It would be good if he had many layers on since he had a habit of only concerning himself with his health when it finally gets in the way of his usual routines.

“You really don’t listen.” Shien would have blinked down at the bottle in his hands if he could. “Who was it that said that? Oga? It had to have been him, and it’s not like I doubted it before but I have to agree with him right now. You can be stubborn when you want to be.”

“Should I be offended? I feel like I should be taking offense right now.”

“Like hell.” Roberu snorts in laughter. The bed bounces a little. “We’re the ones putting up with you.”

Unexpectedly, there are times when everything around Roberu falls quiet. Where he allows people to see what he’s like when he lowers his guard, the sharp wit he unknowingly uses to put distance between himself and people disappearing along with the roughness of his tone. 

“Listen, Shien,” he says, “I already said it’s okay. I don’t come here out of some misguided sense of pity. That's not the kind of person I am. And, well."

His clothes rustle like he'd just shrugged his shoulders.

“I can’t speak for everyone else but I’d be pretty blind myself not to see that they come here because they like you."

“Oh.” He stops. "...What about Robe-san?"

"What about me?"

"Does Robe-san like me too?"

"Really, Shien? What sort of question is that?"

"You said 'they like me'. Well I want to know- what about you?" 

He makes a thoughtful noise.

"Guess we'll never know, huh. After all, there isn't a point in hearing out an unwanted visitor, is there? Honestly. I came all the way here to check on you and this is how my very not-cute junior repays me."

Roberu laughs heartily as Shien cries.

_"Robe-san_ , you're exaggerating!"

-

Some days are worse than the others when it comes to forgetting what happened. 

Sometimes, it’s brief twinges of phantom pain shooting through his calves. It’s all in his head, though his therapist is kind enough to word it delicately. 

And then sometimes he remembers the way his body seizes up as the car comes into sight, everything else blurring around him as he feels its frame collide with his body, knocking him several feet away. He felt pathetically human as the front shield rained down his eyes in fragments, too aware of the pain – nothing _but_ the pain – as they screamed for someone to call an ambulance.

He was awake for a few moments, and it was a few moments too long.

-

Shinove comes. 

It’s not the first time he does but Shien can tell what he was there for when he hears a briefcase clicking open. Neither of them wanted this but it’s estimated he has another three months before he completes the physical therapy. Shinove has prolonged it to the best of his ability.

Shien discusses legalities, talks with a heavy heart as Shinove guides his hands to the paper and pen which rest on his tray. There’s a sense of finality to everything as he tightens his grip.

He has written his signature enough to go through the motions without asking to do it a second time. Practiced, detached, and as he slides the termination of his contract into Shinove’s hands, Shien thinks about how quickly things can change over the course of a night. 

“They miss you.” 

He hears the snapping of glasses as they fold. Shinove had the habit of removing his glasses when he’s uncomfortable. On one of their drunken celebrations, he admitted it helped him a lot to see through unfocused and blurry eyes; he said it felt easier to confront situations when he couldn’t see the other’s expression clearly.

Shien thinks he understands that a little better now.

“Everyone in the company asks the boys how you’re doing whenever they come back from a visit. They’re worried that you’re on doctor’s orders to eat nothing but stale hospital food. Last I heard, they were actively encouraging Astel to sneak in some snacks for you."

Shien thinks of what to say. The others- he did find himself thinking about them, though he does that a lot for other things. He has to thank them, once he finally leaves this place.

The sun is warm against his legs, he notes distractedly, just enough that it's bordering on uncomfortable heat. Some nights, pain lances through them the same way it did when the car flipped and pinned him down, glass raining on his head. There will be scars, he thinks. He isn't sure if he's ready to live with never knowing what they'll look like, never knowing if they've fully healed.

Shien grips his knees. 

“Please tell them I miss them too,” he says. “And that I’ll be okay. It's going to take me a little while to fully recover but I will.”

Shinove’s hand settles heavily on his shoulder. 

“Leave it to me.”

Shien bows. His expression contorts but his voice thankfully doesn't shake.

“Thank you for everything, Shinove-san.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezes briefly before letting go. “It truly was a pleasure working with you, Shien-kun," Shinove says.

As the door falls shut, Shien straightens to face the direction of the warmth. He vaguely registers the biting pain of his nails sinking into his knees.

He’ll be okay. 

His bones will heal. He can find another job after, though it will be difficult. He can always ask Tadashi-sensei how his other patients coped with losing their eyesight. 

Shien has it all planned out. It’s okay.

-

If Shien wakes up breathing heavily, scrambling to get the blanket off his body to free himself from the weight of hulking steel, no one is around to know.

-

His knees give in from under him during his scheduled physical therapy two days after. For a moment, Shien couldn’t move; his therapist has softened most of the fall with a firm grip on his arm but inwardly, he’s reeling, mind taken by surges of phantom pains from that night. 

He tells him they should take a break. Shien quickly says he’s okay, that he simply lost focus for a moment. 

He doesn’t make much progress throughout the week.

-

“It’s important to pace yourself,” Tadashi-sensei reminds him.

Shien is only somewhat _there_ when he nods. It’s difficult to feel present when the rest of him is reliving a nightmare he can’t bring himself to forget, not when its consequences are there in the aching of his bones that doesn’t disappear and the condition everyone refuses to openly speak about.

“Overcoming trauma, both physical and mental, will take some time.”

Shien knows. He knows it; logically, he understands it.

It’s just not as easy when you’re painfully aware that there are things you will never get to experience, people you will never get to see. 

Shien has gone _blind_ and there is nothing that can change that. Nothing that can take it back or fix it.

Not even the death of the man who drove the car will.

-

He expected it so it doesn’t come as a surprise when they stop being able to come to see him. 

Short another member, they had to work hard to promote the branch of the company, already lesser-known as they were. Shien insists that he understands. He used to be one of them, he’s been there when the others left for their own reasons. He gives them sincere good wishes and spends his days counting hours, listening to the verbal reading of the clock with a press of his finger.

It was worth attempting to pretend it doesn’t sting for a while, but something ugly and rotten has started festering inside him, just enough that he knows it’s there but not enough for him to know what it is or what to do with it.

-

He has a feeling that the nurse is eyeing him with concern when he presses the button on the digital clock to get a reading of the time five minutes after she arrives. Without a word, he presses it again when she leaves- precisely another five minutes.

Shien is getting good at it, he thinks. Being able to tell the time even without the sound of the automated voice to fill in the silence.

-

It helps with the nightmares, somehow. 

But between staying awake and slipping back into that infinitesimal moment, he isn’t sure there’s anywhere he’d rather be.

He simply wants to disappear.

-

_Maybe he should have._

_Maybe that car should have ended things for him._

-

For some reason, it all comes spilling out of him when Roberu’s arm grazes his side while setting down a basket piled high with things that everyone else thought to give him. 

Day after day of being plagued with nightmares and wobbling steps as he fights not to let his legs bend under his weight, and all it takes is the slight jostling of his arm for the vulnerable thread keeping him together to break. It’s almost laughable.

“Why are you still coming here?” 

The power of words and voice, it all feels so much _more_ when he has nothing else to rely on but his hearing and touch, and it rips at him that he’s doing this without knowing why, that he feels regret for spitting poison but not enough to get him to stop. He recognizes this, puts a name on the feeling when he clears his throat and feels it bubble to a repressed scream. 

**Anger.**

“There’s not much point in coming to visit, is there?”

_Stop it. Stop it, this isn’t like you. What are you saying?_

“Staying here, wasting your time… what could you possibly gain spending time with someone crippled like me?”

_No. You don’t mean that. Stop-_

“The others don’t bother anymore.” But there’s a degree of truth in that, Shien thinks. He spent hours thinking and thinking and thinking about how things could have gone differently that night, and before he realizes it, it’s been days before he's seen any of them. He should have understood. He did, until his brain refused to.

If it wasn’t for that drunk driver. If only he decided to leave earlier. If only he decided not to leave his apartment at all.

He’d still be with them, he’d still be _one_ of them, he’d still be chatting with thousands of people, playing games he liked, and singing songs until his throat went sore. He wouldn’t be here, forced to rot away, useless, _crippled,_ unable to walk on his own two feet without falling to his knees.

“So, you shouldn’t too, Robe-san. You’ll be doing yourself a favor if you-“

_If you forget I ever existed._

Shien’s throat closes up.

No. _No,_ he doesn’t mean that. 

It takes a while and he waits, there is little he could do _but_ wait, his head lowered like he’s waiting for the blade of a guillotine to cut into the back of his neck. 

“...I bought you your favorite,” Roberu says, continuing with his motions like he initially intended. The subdued tone of his voice belies his attempt at pretending Shien never said anything at all.

“The others pitched in with a couple of snacks they think you might like. Rikka recommends the one in the circular container. It’s all he ever eats, and we’re working on convincing him not to rely on it for lunch since he has little appetite, to begin with.”

Shien grits his teeth. Angry that Roberu chose not to say anything back, angry that he isn’t giving Shien what he wanted- punishment, something to direct all this anger to, someplace that isn’t himself or the man who drove that car. Angry that he has sunken this _low_ to hurt someone close to him, someone who did all he can to visit him no matter how busy he must be after what happened.

“I actually came today to tell you that I won’t be able to visit over the next few days. Until then, see if there’s anything you end up liking. I’ll tell the others- or you can tell them yourself when their schedule clears up a little."

The door opens.

“...Make sure to eat a lot, yeah?”

A pause. Not hesitation, but like he’s forcing the words out the best way he knew how that wouldn't break his voice.

“See you.”

-

Minutes after he leaves, the door opens as the nurses rush in to keep him from pulling the needles out of his arms, to keep him from slamming his fists into his disabled legs. Shien struggles against their restraining grip, screaming as he lashes out with livid anger he didn’t know he’d been keeping in him.

-

_Hey, can someone tell me?_

_Did I do something wrong to deserve this?_

The nothingness – once unfathomable but now there with every hour he spends awake – burns his eyes, and there is nothing but the memories of the crash to fill it in.

_Who can I blame that isn’t me?_

-

True to his words, Roberu doesn’t visit the next night. Or the nights after that.

There’s a strict rotation of nurses monitoring his movements now, as they tended to the lacerations on his arms and shins. He’d cut deep, Tadashi-sensei informs him. It isn’t disapproving. He doesn’t tell him he’s disappointed. He doesn’t say anything at all but he asks him about Roberu.

“That friend of yours,” Tadashi-sensei remarks. His pen clicks. “He hasn’t been around to visit you lately."

Shien idly flexes his fist. Resolutely doesn't allow himself any other indication of being uncomfortable with the topic.

“I won’t ask about what happened since it’s none of my business, but I hope you can hear me out for a bit. I’ve talked with him to discuss your condition often enough to know that he isn’t the type who appreciates it when people tell him to look after himself, so I’m sure he never said a word about it.”

His voice is weary as he continues. “To be completely honest with you, he looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well. Dark bags under his eyes. A little pale, too. He hides it well with how energetic he seems when he talks, but the last time he came to visit, he looked like he was barely able to stand on his own two feet.”

_I don’t come here out of some misguided sense of pity._

“When he comes around to see you again, whenever that may be, try to tell him to put more importance on his health. You might have a better chance of getting him to hear you out than when I tried.”

Shien listens to him leave. He never gets to say that he isn't sure if Roberu will come to see him again.

\- 

He walks the length of the room without stumbling once five days after that night.

Shien finds himself waiting for the door to open during the evenings. He imagines the bed sinking by the foot of his bed and Roberu’s pleasant noise filling in this oppressive, deafening silence.

Briefly, he wonders if what he’d said has pushed him away for good. He wouldn’t be surprised, but he would have at least wanted to apologize. 

He doesn’t have to forgive him, and when he registers that thought, Shien realizes he might be just a little desperate. 

He didn't want to lose another good thing in his life.

-

Oga comes to see him on the sixth day. He doesn’t say anything about the medical dressing wrapped around his arms. He walks into the room with a faint greeting, and he waits.

Shien thinks he knows him too well.

“How is Robe-san?”

Oga doesn’t give any indication of surprise but that hardly means anything when he couldn’t see him. 

“He’s alright,” Oga replies though there’s an undercurrent of hesitation as he does. Not the whole truth, but not an outright lie. “He’s been working himself a little too hard that Shinove had to ask him to cut down on his activities.”

“Oh,” Shien says. He pictures Roberu as Tadashi-sensei had told him, the bottom of his eyes rimmed with sleep-deprivation, unhealthy, powered by only his willpower and single-minded determination to be self-sufficient in his own way. He hides things well in situations where he doesn’t have to rely on his words to get him through a lie. Shien wants to think he should have known but he isn’t sure if he deserves to, after what happened. 

The bottom of the vase clinks as Oga sets it down. He must have brought flowers. “Is there something you want me to pass on to him? A message?”

_“Staying here, wasting your time… what could you possibly gain spending time with someone crippled like me?”_

“No,” Shien says. His smile is empty. “There’s nothing.”

-

Shien can’t remember much by the seventh and eighth days.

What he does remember is counting them down from the hour when he’d felt the sun at its warmest against his skin.

-

“You seem to be doing a little better,” his physical therapist remarks.

Shien uncaps his bottled water to take a drink. His legs don’t shake as much as they used to.

"It's all thanks to you and Tadashi-sensei," he replies.

It only took hurting someone else to heal, he doesn’t say. 

-

The ninth day comes and Shien wakes up to the sound of a familiar voice.

“You lost weight,” Roberu says.

His head snaps up. 

“Have you been eating at all? Your hospital gown looks bigger on you. Ah, did you even try the snacks out for yourself? They don’t look like they’ve been touched at all. You’re going to hurt everyone’s feelings. Especially Rikka's.”

His mouth moves, as if to speak, but Shien doesn’t have any words he can think of saying that wouldn’t sound self-pitying.

Roberu talks like nothing ever happened between them. He talks to fill in the silence where Shien would usually speak. He talks about what he’s been up to, about new games and animes with interesting premises, about recipes he saw on his Twitter feed he painstakingly saved in his phone to share with him the next time they talked. He talks until his voice goes hoarse and his volume dwindles, which is unusual, but he doesn’t take his usual place beside him. He stays across the room.

“Why-“

That one word cuts through Roberu’s long one-sided rambling. 

“Why are you all the way over there? You… don’t normally-“

_You usually sit on the bed._

Shien contemplates pretending that he never said a word at all. But it’s been nine days, and for someone who did nothing but count the hours, he didn’t want to waste any more of them thinking about what he could have done if he’d been brave enough. 

“Can you… can you come closer?” His voice shakes. He realizes he’s bracing himself for rejection. It’s far too much to ask, too soon. It’s selfish.

“Please,” he asks, nonetheless.

“I can’t.” 

He inhales sharply, heart tearing anew. He expected it, he _knew_ it was going to happen but-

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I meant.” Roberu clears his throat. His voice is a little rough. "I caught a cold. It’s why I couldn’t come over the past week. Shinove was worried I was pushing myself a little too hard and, maybe you did have a point with me coming over every night since right after that, I was bedridden for a couple of days. I didn't want you to catch it so I decided to keep myself from visiting for a while."

_Oh._ Shien badly wants to cry.

Nine days, he thinks, over a misunderstanding.

“I thought you weren’t going to come to see me anymore."

He thinks he hears Roberu's footsteps but he isn't sure. He can't hear anything over the sound of his heartbeat.

“I was angry and overwhelmed. I understand that now. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want you to- I _don’t_ want you to leave." Softly, his voice breaks, "I'm sorry."

A hand settles above his head. 

“You must have been lonely."

Shien sniffs.

“I was.”

“Did you miss me?”

Beyond embarrassment and just relieved that they’re finally talking again, Shien nods obediently. "I did."

Roberu laughs a little. “How honest.”

“I don’t want Robe-san to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you, not even once.”

Shien's body trembles. The hand on his head is gentle as it strokes through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Robe-san. I'm sorry. _I'm sorry._ ”

Roberu pauses like he’s considering something before the bed dips under his weight and then Shien is gently being pulled in close by the back of his head, his face buried into the crook of his neck. He’s warmer than normal. 

It feels nice to be held like this.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Roberu tells him. “I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after that. Even after you’re discharged from the hospital, I’ll come to visit you so-”

Shien’s breath hitches as he burrows himself closer, his tears seeping into the cloth of the gauze. Roberu laughs hoarsely.

“Don’t cry, yeah?"

-

It wasn't forgiveness, but it was much more than Shien deserved.

-

(One month passes. Then, two.

Shien heals. 

It isn't easy, but for the first time in a while, he thinks he means it when he says he'll be okay.)


End file.
